


The Interview

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-29
Updated: 2004-10-29
Packaged: 2018-10-06 12:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10335269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: SPOILERS: Heroes 1-2, several other small ones for early season epsSUMMARY: What Jack told that reporter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

Stargate SG-1 Missing Scene Fanfiction - The Interview

##  The Interview

##### Written by BadgerGater   
Comments? Write to us at Badgergater@cs.com

  * SPOILERS : Heroes 1-2, several other small ones for early season eps
  * SEASON : 7
  * SUMMARY : What Jack told that reporter
  * PG [M] [D]



* * *

Emmett Bregman took a deep breath. He finally had the elusive Colonel Jack O’ Neill in front of his camera, and he knew this was his one chance. The officer was only there because Hammond had ordered him to cooperate, and the reporter was pretty sure that ‘cooperate’ was a dirty word to the man who sat stone-faced in front of him. 

"First question," he saw O’Neill straighten his shoulders, then grimace."

Is there something wrong, Colonel?"

"No."

"Oh, is the wound you received off world still bothering you?"

"No."

He tried again. "Is there something I can do to make you more comfortable?"

"No."

"You're ready then?"

"Yes."

Bregman gritted his teeth. O’Neill was definitely not in the mood to make this easy. "Okay, then, let's skip the pleasantries and get down to business." He looked down at his notes. "Colonel O’Neill, you are Stargate Command's most senior field officer and second in command, recognized as *the* U.S. military's foremost expert on off-world exploration and alien battle tactics.Why is that?"

"Because I've been here the longest."

At least it was more than a one word answer, so that was progress. "You were one of the very first people chosen for the Stargate program. Why did you get involved?"

Bregman saw a flicker of emotion and then the stolid mask was back in place.

"I was assigned here."

There was definitely something there, lurking, and the reporter bored in, rephrasing the question. "But why you? Of all the officers in the U.S. military, why were *you* selected to lead the first mission through the gate?"

"General West felt I was qualified."

"Because…" Bregman left the question hanging.

"Because," O’Neill repeated.

Emmett waited, giving the man a chance to complete his answer. It was a simple and normally highly effective tactic.

And of course, with O’Neill, it didn't work.

The reporter waited a moment more and when no further information was forth coming, he sighed and looked down at his notes for the next question. "How would you describe off-world exploration? Thrilling? Exciting? Terrifying?"

"It's a job."

"Oh, come on now Colonel, you must feel something…"

O’Neill suddenly sat forward, his face intent. "I *feel* a responsibility to protect my team, to bring them home safely, and to achieve the objective of the mission."

"That's very noble, Colonel."

O’Neill had settled back into the chair, his mask of stern indifference back in place. "There's nothing noble about it."

"You're telling me that it *wasn’t* noble when you accepted a symbiote, letting an alien being take up residence inside your head in order to obtain the vital intelligence information the creature carried?"

"No," the silver haired officer snapped.

"Then why did you do it?" Emmett had read O'Neill's SG-1 mission reports, precise but dry accounts of incredible off-world adventures, yet devoid of feelings, and emotions.

The Colonel shrugged and looked uncomfortable. "I had my reasons at the time."

Bregman sat forward this time, zeroing in with a follow-up question. "Which were?"

"None of *your* damn business." 

Okay, that hadn't worked. Emmett sat back, tapping his teeth with his pen, studying O’Neill. "Having that alien thing in your brain, what did it feel like?"

"I don't remember."

"How could you not remember?"

O’Neill shrugged again. "As you should know, since you've obviously read my file, I was dying at the time. Out of my head. Not all there." One long, slender finger tapped the silver-haired temple.

"Then what did it feel like the other time?"

"Other time?" eyebrows raised, O’Neill tried to look guileless.

"The other time when you hosted a symbiote? The goddess Hathor, I believe it was, chose you to carry a larval gould…" Bregman thought he saw the man actually shudder.

"No comment."

Bregman looked across at O’Neill appraisingly. The guy was prickly as a cactus and obstinate as a mule. "Okay, then, let's talk about another alien.Thor. You seemed to be very good friends with him. Tell us about him."

"He's a little naked gray Roswell guy."

"And why has he chosen to befriend you?"

The Colonel shrugged. "You'd have to ask him that."

"Well, he's not here, so I'm asking you."

A feral smile crossed O'Neill's face, a hand flickering toward his head. "Gray. He likes gray."

Bregman felt a headache beginning to throb behind his eyes. He'd thought he'd scored a coup when Hammond had agreed to make O’Neill sit down for this interview. Instead, it was beginning to feel like the coup de gras.

"Okay, then let's talk about your team, Major Carter, Doctor Jackson, and the alien, Teal’c. They're very unique…"

"Yes, they are. Talented, too."

"The four of you are the SGC’s number one team. Why is that?"

"General Hammond likes us."

"Colonel, be serious."

"I am serious. General Hammond likes us, because we get the job done."

"And why is it that your team can ‘get the job done’ so well?"

"Because Carter, Daniel and Teal’c are bright, talented, dedicated people."

"And you?"

"I'm just the guy with the big gun."

"Really, Colonel," Emmett snapped back.

O’Neill smirked. "Really."

"So they're bright. There must be more to it than that…"

"No." The belligerent stare was back.

"Colonel…"

"Mister Bregman…"

Emmett threw his hole card on the table. "General Hammond said you would cooperate in this interview."

"I *am* cooperating."

"No, you're not. You're evading."

O’Neill shrugged.

"Colonel, I intend to keep you in that chair until you actually condescend to answer my questions in a civilized manner."

O’Neill looked amused. Very quietly, the face returned to its look of bland disinterest, his voice dropping low, taking on a distinctly dangerous tone. " I've been interrogated by better men than you."

Bregman stood, slapping his notebook down on the table. "Colonel, will you get this through your head, this is *not* an interrogation."

The craggy eyebrows raised. "Oh really?" 

"Really," Bregman sat down again, brushing a hand across his forehead. "Colonel, look, I'm just trying to do my job here. Accomplish *my* mission. I'm not here to discredit anyone. On the contrary, the President asked me to record the history of this organization, to chronicle the astounding job you people do here, to honor the incredible men and women who work here."

O’Neill nodded, gaze still fixed on the reporter's face.

Bregman found it extremely disconcerting. He'd interviewed a lot of people over the years, and the only one who'd ever intimidated him in the way O’Neill managed to do, with a single level stare, had been a convicted serial killer. 

It was Emmett who shuddered this time. 

He took a deep breath and started once again. "Colonel, I just want you to talk about what you do…"

"Not about me."

"What?"

O’Neill leaned forward one more time, his gaze intent. "I'm not here to talk about *me*, or what *I* do. You want me to talk, I’ll talk, about them," he waved a hand toward the gateroom below, his eyes blazing. "There are dozens of people here, hundreds, whose work is invaluable. They don't get the glory. They don't get to go through the gate and make the discoveries, they don't get the excitement or the recognition. But each and every one of them, from the men and women who empty the wastepaper baskets to the technicians who operate the gate, they make this place possible. They work behind the scenes, but their contribution is every bit as vital as that of any one of us who steps through that gate. No one recognizes their contributions, no one gives them medals, no one invites them to dinner at the White House. But they should. Because they're the real reason this place is successful. They're the real heroes."

A long moment of silence followed.

"Thank you, Colonel," Bregman turned to his camera and sound assistants."

Cut. That's it."

"That's it?" O’Neill sounded surprised.

"Yes, that's it." Bregman didn't say more. At last, with that one brief statement, he'd gotten what he wanted out of the guarded and distant Colonel, emotion and passion, a glimpse of the fire that made the man who he was.

Shown, not told.

Displayed, in one intense, revealing moment.

And on film, for posterity.

**The End**

  


* * *

  


> Author's Note: Another important scene that the show left out of S7 <shakes head in consternation>.... thanks Lynette for the quick beta.... Special get well wishes to Margo...

* * *

> © June 2004 I know that I don't own Stargate or the character of Jack; I do   
> own this fic, however, and it may not be posted/printed elsewhere without my   
> permission

* * *

  



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